


Servus

by Anonymous



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Gaping, Butt Plugs, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehumanization, Explicit Language, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Handcuffs, Mannequin sex, Molestation, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Kissing, Number Five | The Boy Whump, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Post Series 1 - Apocalypse Averted, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Abuse, Underage Sex, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-02-28 11:18:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18755398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "They had been given a chance to start over, all of them, together. At least, that’s what Five intended, when he pulled he and his siblings from imminent death...He had watched his siblings be swept back to their collective childhood, armed with the knowledge of what was to come, and how to prevent it. He, on the other hand, had ended up somewhere entirely different."Five receives one, final business proposal from the Handler, and her methods of persuasion are far from conventional.----*SPOILERS FOR THE END OF SEASON ONE*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags for this fic and read responsibly!
> 
> This story is set after Season One, the only difference being that Hazel did not kill the Handler.

Five isn’t even fully awake when she pushes the next toy into him.  
  
It’s long, thick, and thankfully absent of ridges, but his stomach cramps against the invasion all the same. He breathes, he grits his teeth, and he _waits_. It’s not the worst pain he’s had to deal with today.  
  
They had been given a chance to start over, all of them, together. At least, that’s what Five intended, when he pulled he and his siblings from imminent death. He remembers those frantic, last moments he had with them, how Allison and Diego’s hands felt in his own. He had feared for every one of them, and that fear that had pushed him to the limits of his abilities. It had hurt to do so, had pulled at something deep in his old soul, but when the temporal portal had opened, all the pain had all been worth it. He had watched his siblings be swept back to their collective childhood, armed with the knowledge of what was to come and how to prevent it.   
  
He, on the other hand, had ended up somewhere entirely different.  
  
“Finally awake? If I knew it were _that_ easy, I would have started with this size.” From his current position: on his knees on the floor, Five was forced to look up at the Handler’s playful, enigmatic smile. Her hand was on her hip, and in her other hand was a remote, with a small dial on it. By contrast, his own hands were cuffed together, suspended above his head from a hanging chain connected to the ceiling of her office. He was naked, cold, and he had lost all sensation in his legs long ago. Despite the numbness, he could still feel the unforgiving, hard silicone that had been forced into him. “I’ve got to say, Five, you sure know how to give a girl her money’s worth. Round 12 and you’re still in the game.”  
  
Five let her talk, if only to give himself a few moments of reprieve. If he fought, told her exactly what he thought of her, she would only laugh in his face, and she was already insufferably smug as it was. He was no stranger to torture, but the Handler got under his skin like no one else. When he had been older, she was less flirtatious, but her behaviour towards Five had been nonetheless inappropriate between any boss and their employee. She held herself highly. She could be soothing in one minute, and volatile in the next, and she had a viscous, relentless streak when it came to getting her way. Dad would have called her spoiled, she would call it taking what the world owed her.  
  
When she reached down to caress his cheek, Five instinctively flinched back from the contact. The chain rattled above his head, and he balled his fists together in futile muscle memory, willing himself away from her vile touch. It wouldn’t work, it never did. His powers surged, and for a second, he felt that familiar tugging sensation on his very atoms, before it was snuffed out as quickly as it had come. He shook his fists once in frustration, his jaw clenching and unclenching as she watched him struggle. He was like a beast in a trap, and her poacher’s smile was unwavering. Five hated her for it.  
  
“Now, now, Five. We both know you’re not going anywhere, unless I say. Those temporal cuffs didn’t come cheap. Made just for you, I might add.”  
  
_Am I supposed to be thanking you?_   Five gave her his best glare, as she drew one perfectly manicured thumbnail over his cheekbone, close to the vulnerable curve of his eyeball.   
  
“Are you ready to work, Five? Or do you want to keep playing? I can keep doing this over and over, but something tells me you can’t.”   
  
Five maintained his glare, and despite his disheveled state, he must have still been exuding defiance, as the Handler nodded, understanding his silence, loud and clear. She ruffled her fingers through his sweat-matted hair, before she stood up straight and clasped her hands behind her back. With the remote now hidden, Five was left to guess when the first jolt of pleasure was to come.

 

In the beginning, he had learned quickly that his captor enjoyed trying to humiliate him. She had commented lewdly on his small stature, and on the size of his erection, as she stretched him open on her long fingers. She had verbally entertained the prospect of piercing him, on his nipples, especially, and dressing him in lingerie and other fetish clothing. She had tried to kiss him, too, multiple times. The first few kisses, he had turned his face away, had kept his teeth clamped shut to prevent her tongue from doing little more than wet his lips. It was revolting, violating, and Five hated every moment of his hormonal body’s betrayal under her defilement.   
  
He had been forced to orgasm, the first of many, with one hand stroking his cock, and three fingers massaging his prostate. As he rode the crest of his release, Five had almost bitten through his lower lip, from holding in his sounds. He would not give her the satisfaction of hearing him moan, or beg, even by the fourth, and fifth orgasm, which had brought tears to his eyes. By the _seventh_ , a white hot agony which had taken half an hour to work up to, Five’s whole body was covered in sweat. He was breathing heavily, as though he had been shot, or stabbed, but still, he did not scream.  
  
“You’re sick.” He remembers growling at her, as she made a show of tasting his release. She traced her fingers back over his stomach, swiping up more of the cooling stickiness, and smeared it over his own lips like rouge, when he refused to open. His throat felt hoarse from his ragged breathing, and his voice was low and worn. It was the first time he had spoken in almost 4 hours, and it the pleasure that insulting her brought him was short lived. The Handler didn’t even falter. Instead, she tipped her head to one side, and clasped her hands up by her shoulder.   
  
“Oh Five, honey, this is not about getting me off at all. No, no, no.” She had waggled a finger at him, then, still shiny from his release, and Five had never wanted to bite someone’s digit off more in his life. “Though, I will admit, it does bring me pleasure to see you squirm. No, this is about teaching you a lesson. After that little deceptive stunt you pulled, I wanted to tear you apart, I really did.” She tapped her index finger against her lower lip, before sucking it clean, and smiling at him sweetly. “Then I thought, well, why not try something a bit different? You’re not a conventional man, Five.” She crouched then, until she was face to face with him. “Pain won’t work on you, and all that nail-pulling, lead pipe beating business is _far_ too barbaric for me. It's only fitting that your punishment would be as equally, well, unconventional as you. Wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
Five hadn’t replied since then, and the next time she forced him to completion, he had passed out entirely. The blackness had been a welcome void from the continuous assault on his body, but when he woke, it was to the sensation of a large plug being pushed past his loosened rim. He had clenched up reflexively, but the Handler only increased the pressure on the plug’s flared base. He was dripping with lube by this point, and he could see a puddle of his own semen, and the gel, between his spread thighs. As he fought the intrusion, from behind him, the Handler sucked a kiss onto his ear lobe. Her other hand rubbed slow, maternal circles onto his heaving stomach. The mockery of comfort, coming from the woman currently raping him, made him want to scream. He wanted his family, he wanted something to drink, he wanted-  
  
“Just so you know, Five. This can all stop, if you agree to work for me. All you have to do is say yes.” Five would never say yes. He wouldn’t. Escaping a second time had been next to impossible, but a third time was beyond all comprehension. 

 

Now, hours later, as this larger toy split him open, Five closed his watering eyes and gasped through the pain. He was so loose, by now, he was surprised the thing hadn’t dropped out of him from its own gravity. When the Handler turned it onto the first vibrating setting, Five’s head tilted to the side, to rest against his inner elbow. He was stuffed full, the silicone toy was big for an _adult_ , let alone him. He could feel the vibrations through his entire body, and he swallowed with a click of his dry throat as his traitorous cock tried to rise.   
  
As the sensations continued, Five tried to let his mind relax, and focus on other things. He tried to fill it with anything, _anything_ but the fact he was filled so obscenely, so painfully, that his teeth felt like chattering. So far, no one had come in, and Five suspected the Handler had made it so. He supposed there was a part of her that, while she revelled in his humiliation, wanted all of it to herself.   
  
He was pulled from his distractions, however, when his right nipple was firmly pinched. The bright spot of pain made him inhale through his nose, and his eyes flew open, when he felt the Handler touch the other one too. She was teasing them, rolling the buds in her fingertips, and Five tried to wrench himself from the contact. He pulled down, and away from her sharply. His wrists burned from the cuffs, but what was most jolting was when he went too low, and he bumped the base of the toy against the floor. It forced the toy an inch deeper into him, and Five bit his lip on a scream when something tore. His stomach gave another hard spasm. The Handler laughed, and Five turned his face in against his elbow again, staying still this time as she resumed playing with his nipples. His cheeks burned, but his rim felt worse, and he was sure he was bleeding as he could feel his frantic pulse where the toy was shoved into him.  
  
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a glutton for punishment.” She mocked, and Five’s spine arched as she dialled the vibrator up another notch. He was still nowhere near release, and the prospect of an infinite amount of this torture was less than encouraging. He needed a break, he needed a moment to catch his breath, but he was too proud to beg, he would rather die than ask for her mercy. It was just him, after all, the rest of his siblings were safe, and Vanya would grow up loved, and wanted. That made all of this torture bearable, if only by the tiniest of margins. “I’ve got a surprise for you, Five.” The Handler announced, full of false sincerity and charm. A surprise from her usually meant there was worse to come, and Five felt a pit of dread open underneath him as he considered that. What could be worse than he was already experiencing? He shuffled restlessly on his knees, the toy still humming away inside of him.  
  
She stood, and prowled behind her desk, dragging her nails over the polished surface. Unable to follow, Five craned his neck, to try and spot what instrument of torture she would produce next. Would it be another vibrator? Something to pierce or clamp onto his body? Maybe a blindfold, or worse, a full head mask to obscure his hearing too?  
  
Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Dolores, as the Handler lifted her out, and placed her atop her desk.  
  
It was like a switch had been flipped. The moment Five saw Dolores within the Handler’s grasp, the fight returned to him. He tugged on the chain roughly, trying to haul himself up, and his dead legs attempted to push him to his feet.   
  
“Get your hands _off_ her!” Five yelled at the Handler. His voice was tight from the pain of shifting his insides so suddenly. Before he could stand, the Handler ramped up the force of the vibrations, and Five’s legs crumpled underneath him. He swallowed down a cry, his torn insides were throbbing hot enough for bile to rise in his throat. His sweaty cheek dropped to his elbow once more, his mouth was wide and panting. As his vision swam, he tried hard to focus on Dolores’ face. “Don’t you touch her.” He gritted out, and his vision was yanked away from Dolores, when the Handler tilted his jaw up to look at her instead.  
  
“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands, Five.” The Handler tutted, and her thumb slid easily inside of Five’s panting mouth. She rubbed the pad of that digit over his tongue, pressing into the soft pinkness of it and making a trail of saliva leak from the corner of his lips. He was shaking from fatigue, a complete wreck, even when she turned the vibrator back down to the medium setting.  
  
“What do you want?” Five swivelled his eyes to the side to look at Dolores, frantically trying to spot any signs of damage. He couldn’t see any, but the fact Dolores was here put her at the mercy of the Handler, and that truly raised the stakes. Before, he could cooly draw out this game, safe in the knowledge the Handler wouldn’t kill him. He was too useful, too powerful, to be eliminated, but they both knew Dolores was his weak spot. He couldn’t let anything happen to her.   
  
“You know what I want, Five. So I’ll ask you again. Work, or play?” The Handler slid her free hand up to her outer thigh, and from the folds of her skirt she produced a gun. It was a tiny, easily concealed thing, but it could have been a flamethrower for all Five cared, as she aimed it at Dolores. Five’s chest squeezed, and he shook with the effort of not lashing out in any way he could.  
  
“Wait! Hold on, _hold on_.” Five was almost hyperventilating. His body was overworked, and his mind was beginning to unravel from the combined stresses of the current situation. To his surprise, the Handler relented, and she seemed to have turned her attention back to him, for now. Her thumb slid from his mouth, and caressed his cheek instead. “Don’t. Just don’t.”  
  
“You’re not asking me very nicely, are you Five?” The Handler drawled, and when she clicked the safety off, Five tugged the cuffs surrounding his wrists fruitlessly.  
  
“Is that what you want?” Five swallowed thickly, and his voice almost shook from the effort of sounding in control. Inside him, the vibrator was still buzzing, and his cock was leaking a steady trail of precum, onto the already stained floor. “I can beg, if that’s what you want to hear. I know when I’ve been beat. You win, okay? You’ve humiliated me enough. Just please, don’t hurt her.”  
  
“Does she have a name?” The Handler seemed oblivious to his offer. She was stroking his hair once more, and although the contact made him feel sick to his stomach, he valued Dolores’ safety over his own pride.  
  
“Dolores.” Five stared up into Dolores’ blush tinted face, her smooth, sculpted features. He hated that she was seeing him like this, but better he was violated than her.   
  
“Dolores.” The Handler repeated reverently. She lowered the gun, but kept the safety off for now. “How _quaint_. Did you name her?”  
  
“No...” Five wondered what the Handler was getting at, and he licked his lips, trying to ease some of their dryness. “She told me.”  
  
“And you knew this... thing... for how many years?”  
  
“She’s not a thing, she’s a lady.” Five couldn’t help but correct her, and the Handler smiled, wide and bemused, when he took the obvious bait. “Over 30 years.” He added hastily, lest she find any reason to point that gun at Dolores again.   
  
“Why? What does she give you? Surely...” The Handler’s smile took on a fiendish candour. “Oh Five... surely you _didn’t_. Not with dear Dolores here.”  
  
“What? No! I wouldn’t.” Five protested, his cheeks heating up while the Handler continued to smirk at him. “That’s disgusting. She’s a lady, like I said. She kept me company, that was all.”  
  
“I believe you.” The Handler released his hair, and she walked over to Dolores’ side. “She’s rather striking, isn’t she? Shame there isn’t the rest of her.”   
  
“We got by.” Five could feel panic rising in his chest again the closer the Handler got to her. His increased heart rate was making blood flow stronger to other parts of his anatomy, which didn’t help his situation in the slightest. Without meaning to, he was getting close to release again, and his muscles flexed and tensed restlessly at the fact.  
  
“Let’s make this fun, shall we Five?” The Handler switched off the vibrator, and the absence of the stimulation left Five reeling for a few seconds. She lifted Dolores up again, and Five’s weary eyes were glued to every movement she made. She brought Dolores closer, before placing her down a few feet from his trembling form. “I think we both know, that even if I re-hired you today, your loyalty is still hopelessly tied to that family of yours, and your dear Dolores. You’d find a way to weasel your way out of the contract, therefore, I want to offer you a chance at freedom. A test if you will.”  
  
“What are the terms?” Five was so tired, his voice was almost slurring at this point. Although he wanted, with every fibre of his being, to crawl to Dolores’ side, he didn’t want to endanger her recklessly. The negotiation was already tenuous enough.  
  
“Well, you seem to have quite the predicament right there between those creamy little thighs of yours.” The Handler circled her finger in the direction of Five’s crotch, and he impulsively closed his legs an inch. As if that would restore any of his dignity by now.  
  
“What’s your point?”  
  
“Well, Dolores here has a perfectly smooth, waiting hand, don’t you think? Thirty years is a _long_ time to make a lady wait.” The Handler swept her fingers over Dolores’ half-curled palm, and Five held his breath when he caught onto her implication.  
  
“You want me to... use her?” Five’s eyes flicked back and forth, between the Handler’s cruel smile and Dolores’ more comforting expression. It broke Five’s heart to even think about doing that, even though Dolores’ wouldn’t judge him, wouldn’t hold it against him. They were both trapped here, at the mercy of this mad woman’s whims.  
  
_It’s okay Five._ Her face seemed to be saying. _This is how we both survive._  
  
“I can’t...” Five felt his eyes dampen, and he shook his head at her. “Dolores, I can’t ask you to do that.”  
  
_If you do this, we can go home. You can get better, then we can take her down, together. You know it’s the right choice._  
  
Five’s lower lip trembled, but he steeled his nerves, looking back up at the Handler. He would do this, for both of them. He would spend the rest of his life apologising to Dolores, but right now, this window of opportunity was rapidly closing.  
  
“I’ll do it. But I want this chain gone.” Five paused, considering his manners, and how they could be used for leverage. “Please. So that I can hold her closer.”  
  
“Fine, but the cuffs stay on.” The Handler produced a key then, and she knelt by his side, releasing the cuffs from the long chain. His hands dropped to the floor, still bound together, and Five breathed and shook through the pain as the blood returned to his fingertips in a violent rush. He squeezed his eyes shut, and now he had better use of his arms, he wiped his hands over his face. It cleared away some of the sweat, the tears, and the grime that clung to his features, and when he reopened his eyes, he looked up at the Handler’s smug stare.  
  
“Thank you.” Even through his bone deep exhaustion, Five found the strength to walk towards Dolores on his knees, using his cuffed hands for balance as the circulation hadn’t fully returned to his legs yet. The vibrator’s large size also made it difficult to move, despite it being switched off, and the pressure it put on his insides kept him from making any sudden moves.   
  
With the Handler scrutinising his every step, Five wrapped his bound arms around Dolores, and lifted her closer. He held her to his chest for a moment, pressing a kiss to her head, before he laid her on her back. Despite the pain and distress, his erection had barely diminished, but this was nowhere near his first orgasm of the day. He was going to have to work hard, and try not to think too hard about what he was doing to Dolores.  
  
Kneeling at an angle to her, Five brought his cock to Dolores’s hand, and he carefully slid it into the curve of her palm. In comparison to the warmth of the Handler’s fingers, Dolores felt a little cold, almost slippery, but the latter could also be due to him. His bound hands rested on her shoulder, pinning her in place, and he closed his eyes as he started to rock his hips.   
  
Slowly, at first, Five thrust into Dolores’ waiting palm, but as he picked up a steady pace, the coolness of her body actually helped his oversensitive shaft. His eyes slipped shut, and he let out a small moan as he humped her static form. He could give his noises to her, he didn’t mind Dolores knowing he felt good thanks to her. He could almost hear her words of encouragement, and he wished his hands were free, so he could caress and worship the rest of her body. He hadn’t minded the absence of this, all those years in the apocalypse, he had been too busy fighting and trying to survive. Sex had expended energy he would rather have kept for other things. But now he and Dolores had crossed that threshold, he could see the appeal, and yearned for more of this in the future.  
  
He was brought rapidly back to reality, when the vibrator once again switched on. The rush of sensation brought spots to his vision, and Five almost choked on a sob when he felt the Handler grasp the base of the toy. She held it steady, so that after Five thrust his hips up against Dolores, he would fuck himself back on its thick, inhuman girth. It was too much, and as he got closer, Five found himself getting louder, more desperate with his noises. He could no longer keep quiet, drawn out to his limit, as his leaking cock slid over and over Dolores’ hand. His entire thought process was reduced down to getting off, and when the Handler once again upped the vibrations, he was hurled over the edge with a breathless, untamed cry.   
  
His release pulsed over Dolores’ fingers, a slow trickle by this point, and his lower half was engulfed in a white, static like pain, when his abused nerves were once again fired up. He collapsed over Dolores’ form, the toy slipping out of him, and his ass gaped obscenely where it had once filled him to the brink. He was panting still, whining through the aftershocks and clinging to Dolores like she were a buoy in the ocean. Through the haze of his mind, he was sure he could hear her talking.  
  
_You did well, Five._ She whispered to him. _We’re going home soon._

 

“My, my. You both put on quite the show.” The Handler was over by her desk, when Five next opened his eyes. He must have blacked out again, as he didn’t remember her crossing the room, nor did he recall his hands being uncuffed. His wrists were raw, and bruised, and as he flexed his fingers, he could see the Handler bringing over a needle of something clear and innocuous looking. “You’ve earned your freedom this time Five. Next time I won’t be so lenient with you.”

 _Next time_? Five opened his mouth to protest, but the Handler swept down and pressed a kiss to his lips, her tongue slipping against his own and sending shivers down to his core. It was a last violation of his personal space, a parting blow to his already decimated pride. By now, however, he was too weak to fight her, or the needle she slid into his arm.  
  
He woke in his bedroom, back in the Academy. He was still naked, curled on top of his sheets, and he hurt all over, his muscles aching in echoes of the brutality that had been inflicted upon it. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel the Handler’s long fingers pressing into him, and the wetness oozing out to his inner thighs only confirmed what he already knew: that he had been raped, over and over, a metaphorical claim over his life, made physical by her incessant molestation. Had he been really 13, Five considered with a shaky breath, he would probably have buckled to her whims easier. He would have surrendered to her employment, and who knows what other designs she may have had on his adolescent body, if she had chosen to reveal herself earlier in the apocalypse.   
  
Five sat up gingerly, and almost immediately regretted it from the pain that lanced up from his raw insides, from that shameful part of his body that had gaped, red like a wound, and taken so much damage. He settled, instead, for laying on his side, propped up on one elbow facing the window. Laying on his front was out of the question, as his enflamed cock felt too tender, even for his comfortable sheets.  
  
Peering around his room, and over his shoulder, he caught sight of Dolores, perched atop his bedside table. A message cylinder was propped up against her chest, and Five grasped for it, opening it up with unsteady hands. The note inside was signed with a lipstick kiss, the same shade the Handler wore. The words made his blood run cold, and goosebumps raised on the back of his neck.  
  
_“It was nice seeing you Five. If you reconsider my offer, you know how to contact me. I’ll visit again soon, I have plenty of other games for us to play.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SPOILERS FOR THE END OF SEASON ONE*
> 
> Please read the tags for this fic and read responsibly!
> 
> Some gentler, but nonetheless still creepy messed up happenings in this chapter!

If Five was honest with himself, he probably should have seen it coming.

It was his fault, entirely, of course. He had been so pleased to be back with his siblings, reunited and unified as they were, that he allowed himself to slip into a false sense of security. The apocalypse was averted, after all, and supporting Vanya was the main focus on everyone’s minds for those precious first few weeks. 

They knew better, of course, than to tell Reginald, Grace and Pogo what they knew, but outside of missions, they still endeavoured to include Vanya wherever possible. She played with them, in their scarce time for recreation, and the others actively sought out her company for studying, and to listen to her music. It was hard, keeping what they knew from their collective guardians, but the siblings gave nothing away, feeling closer to a real team than they ever had before. 

Five was happy with the outcome. The strain such a jump had put on his body and mind, were worth seeing his family together again. They still fought, on occasion, and bickered over petty things like normal siblings, but they were also more inclined to share their thoughts and worries with one another. It was an unspoken truth that the harder they worked to bond together in these precious years, the stronger their team would be, should the apocalypse still happen in some other way. 

Despite their heightened trust in one another, it didn’t change the fact that Five did his best to hide his previous assault from his siblings. As far as they were concerned, he had just been slightly off course, too focused on getting them to safety, that he appeared in his room, instead of the courtyard like everyone else. None of them had seen him limp with Dolores to the bathroom, stand under the shower, and scrub, and scrub, _and scrub_ with scalding water, over his exhausted frame. Once they were both clean, he had changed into a fresh uniform, and come down to join the others, promising to himself to never tell them what had transpired in the Handler’s office.

It had hurt to think about it then, and now, a month later, it still hurt. Five couldn’t get undressed without the thought of her hands on him, _in him_ , and his conversations with Dolores had been unbearably tense for those first few days. She didn’t blame him, of course she wouldn’t, but the Five still made himself scarce, aside from buying her a new shirt with sequins this time. Touch suddenly became that much harder between them. He kept his distance, only initiating contact with her as long as it was necessary, and when she asked to be moved. 

He quickly found that if he allowed his mind wander, when he was touching her smooth, cool skin, the memories of what he had been forced to do to her came flooding back. More disturbing was the arousal that came with those memories, and that made him feel especially guilty. He didn’t want to get off on the recollection of hurting Dolores like that, of taking her agency away and making her an object. He tried to stamp down on that hormonal response firmly, appalled at himself, but it wasn’t like he could get off anyway. Being in a teenager’s body, he had woken up erect many times, and some of those times, on impulse, he had taken himself into hand. Once the fog of sleep had faded from his mind, however, he would snatch his hand back, waiting for that throbbing between his legs to fade. He couldn’t even begin to reach completion, couldn’t disassociate the feeling from the Handler forcing his body to orgasm. _13 times_ , his brain reminded him, _and she would have taken more, but you chose to violate Dolores instead of taking responsibility. None of that would have happened if you’d just accepted her offer in the first place. You could have figured a way out of it like last time. You have only yourself to blame._

There was nothing else to do, but allow time to heal most of the hurt. He tried his best to bury it, to move on and enjoy his new opportunity to be with his family. No one had to know, this was something between he, and Dolores, and he would just be unnecessarily complicating his relationship with his siblings by telling them. It worked, for the most part. He got to see what could have been, had he stayed, had Ben lived, had they known that Vanya was gifted too.

That is, until one morning, he awoke to a very different scenery than the quiet recluse of his room. 

He was sat up, for one, and it took him a moment to realise that the cushioned surface beneath his bottom belonged to an antique, wooden chair. His arms were hanging loosely over the ornately curved arms, and his feet were bare, brushing the floor as they dangled. He lifted his head, groaning at the ache in his neck, and came face to face with the Handler, who sat across from him, at her desk, sipping a cup of coffee with a smile in her eyes. 

 _Her office_. Five tensed immediately, and he was suddenly very aware that he was only wearing his pyjamas. He wanted more layers between himself, and her, and when she cast her eyes appraisingly down his form, he internalised his shudder.

“Rise and shine, sleepy head.” The words should have come out in a sing-song, mothering tone, but from the Handler, they could only sound smug, satisfied that she had him within her reach again. Five immediately readied himself to jump away from her, across the room, out into the corridor and away, if she even so much as _winked_ at him. His wrists weren’t cuffed this time. He could make it if he was fast enough, smart enough, but before that familiar tinge of blue surrounded his fingers, she interrupted his train of thought. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

“Or what?” Five took the bait, if only to stall for time. The Handler loved a good monologue, and if it kept her hands off of him, then all the better.

Her expression, the predator’s grin of her perfect teeth, was singularly threatening for a moment, before it smoothed out into a compound of charismatic charm, and excitement. “Stay and chat, it’s been a while, a whole month in your time, but much longer in mine.” 

“If you don’t have a reason to keep me here, I’d like to go home.” Five gripped the arms of the chair, and he pointedly ignored the way the Handler’s fingers own twitched, adjusting their grip around the mug in her hands. The way they were both clasped around it, Five was reminded of the art of strangulation, how easily those fingers could wrap around his own narrow throat and snap it, left, then right. 

“I’d like to talk, for starters. Then, maybe, we’ll see about getting you home.” The Handler was talking slowly, calmly, as though he really were a small child, and it brought a flare of anger in his chest. How _dare_ she patronise him. She was a megalomaniac, a disgusting, perverted, cold hearted, twisted individual that played with her victims minds and violated their bodies and-

“A _reason_.” Five gritted out, before he could spiral too deeply into that train of thought. He felt nauseous, and the skin on the back of his neck prickled with anticipation. He needed to know which one of her games he was dealing with here. If the Handler wanted an encore of what happened a month ago, then at least he would at least know what to expect from her. If he had some small semblance of how things would go, that well of sickening familiarity would give him the tiniest of recesses to retreat his mind into. The first time, when everything was fresh, and new, he was unable to check out mentally from what was happening to him. If this was to become a regular ritual between them, Five wondered if it were possible to learn to ignore the incessant push of her fingers, as horrific as the concept sounded.

“What’s the rush, Five? I’m sure your family don’t even realise you’re gone. In fact.” She lowered her mug then, and stood up, walking her fingers slowly over the surface of her desk as she approached him. As she made her way around the desk, Five fought the urge to shrink back further into the chair, to reach for the nearest sharp object and bury it into the jelly of one of her wide, gleaming eyes. “I know they haven’t.”

“You’re watching them?” Five’s stomach sank. Of course, he thought, this was the natural progression of her threats. First the threat to his own body, then Dolores, now his family. This was her trump card, her ace in her sleeve, an assurance that he would do whatever she wanted.

“I’m afraid so.” The Handler perched on the edge of her desk, and she was still speaking infuriatingly softly to him. If she was spitting fury, and vengeance, demanding that he pay for betraying her, Five could use that to his advantage. This bile-raising, falsely sympathetic, victorious Handler made his blood boil, and she, the insufferable reptile that she was, knew it. “I have my strike force stationed at the Academy, all I have to do is give the word, and, well, you know the rest. It’s quite unfortunate that they’re so young, they’ve barely grown into their abilities yet, so they’re quite helpless without you.”

“I hate you.” Five tried to pour as much venom into those three words as possible, tried to convey just how much he wanted to destroy her, to see her dead and buried. He hated this charade, this pretend niceness she was sugar coating him with. He wanted it to end. 

“And yet, you haven’t tried to kill me.” The Handler smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt, and she gave him a small, devilish smile. “You really left me hanging, after your last visit Five. No messages, no calls, no attempts to thwart me like the villain you’ve decided to cast me as. I should be offended, really, I know you read my note, but I know when the finale comes, you won’t disappoint.”

“Well maybe today will be your lucky day. Maybe I’ll finally put a bullet in your brain and we’ll call it a day.” Five couldn’t resist the small jab, but as always, the Handler seemed unruffled. It seemed to excite her, more than anything, that she hadn’t yet managed to break him. 

She surprised him, when she suddenly leaned forward, placing her hands on top of his wrists and hovering her face inches from his own. “All in good time, Five.” From this close, he could see the jagged line of scarring on her jaw, a parting gift from his last betrayal, and smell the vanilla scent that emanated from her hair. “Now, are you hungry? Thirsty?”

 _No, I’m nauseated._ Five’s upper lip twitched, as he fought not to snark further at her. She had limits, he knew, and it would be better for him if he played along until she was sated. “I could eat.” He chose his words carefully, not inclining to one particular taste or another. He was afraid that if he mentioned a specific food that he enjoyed, she would find some way to ruin it for him, forever. He didn’t need any further desecration to his personal life, _thank you very much_. She stared at him for a moment, and Five could see her evaluating his answer, knowing just as well as he did that this was a game. Perhaps this time, she had the upper hand, but in the future, she could very well be in a different position altogether. She wouldn’t destroy him, and he lived for the challenges she brought him. It was a complicated game of cat and mouse, played on multiple levels, with a cyclical outcome that always brought them back together in the end.

“I’ll bet, growing boy that you are.” She reached up to pinch his cheek, and Five didn’t even blink, didn’t cringe away from her touch, allowing her to sweep her fingers over his skin. Standing up straight, she walked away from him, and resumed her position at her desk, sat across from him in her plush, leather chair. Picking up her personal phone, she dialed through to a number Five couldn’t see from his angle, her index finger playing with the curled cord, and her eyes fixed on his own. “Hi Ritchie, we’re ready, come in whenever you’re done. Oh, and can we also get some black coffee? I think he’s a little cranky.” She added that last part as a stage whisper, and Five felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. This was all too synthetic, too much like the brain-rotting soap operas Five detested, that had laughter tracks in the background and long, awkward pauses in which he imagined the actors considered how far their careers had fallen. Once she hung up, the Handler sat back in her chair, lifting her mug to have a contemplative sip. Her free hand raised, and patted one of her knees expectantly. Five blanched, his fingers once again tightening on the arms of the chair. _Surely she didn’t mean for him to…_

“You can’t be serious.”

The Handler laughed at that, and she shook her head at him in disbelief. “Oh, I think you’ll find that I am.”

Five closed his eyes, if only to give himself a small reprieve from looking at her, and he took a deep, steadying breath. _Play along._ He reminded himself. _You don’t want your family’s blood on your hands._ When he reopened his lids, she was still staring at him, and Five pushed himself out of the chair, trying to square his shoulders as much as possible. He wanted her to know, that while he was playing along, none of this was enjoyable for him. Like before, he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of a willing, enthusiastic participant, and he certainly wasn’t about to thank her with any degree of genuinity for what she had planned for him. 

As he circled around the desk, she raised both of her arms out of the way of her lap, and Five paused in front of her. He wasn’t sure if she meant for him to sit sideways, not facing her, or _heaven forbid_ , to straddle her. She must have sensed his hesitancy, as she exhaled another short laugh through her nose, and took pity on him. She reached out to hold his wrist, guiding him to face her desk, and little by little, Five lowered himself backwards. When his bottom connected squarely with her lap, he tensed up his entire body, fighting the urge to leap off of her, and sprint in the other direction. 

“There you go, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Her voice was now far too close to his ear for comfort, and as her breath tickled the smooth skin on the back of his neck, her free hand walked, spider-like, from his arm, to his stomach. He closed his eyes, stunned into silence by his discomfort, and he allowed her fingers to rub small circles into his tummy, over the top of his pyjamas. It was a mockery of a comforting gesture, one that she had done before when he was in the throes of agony from one of his forced orgasms. Recalling the parallel brought another wave of tension over his muscles. “Try to relax, Five, you’ll enjoy yourself if you stop fighting me at every turn.”

Five felt bile rise in the back of his throat, and he was hyper aware of every inch where their bodies were pressed together. He could feel her legs shifting beneath his own, her hair tickling his nape, the softness of her breasts pressed against his back. Somehow, this small, intimate moment, was more humiliating than anything she had subjected him to previously. She held him like a lover, as he had often held Dolores, cradled to his chest to keep her safe from the elements, under the starlit sky of the wastelands. It hurt to think about Dolores, how she would feel if she saw them together like this. It wasn’t his choice, of course, but some things were supposed to be sacred, just for the two of them.

“What do you get out of this?” Five’s voice came out a little thick, as his chest stung from thinking about the apocalypse. He wanted Dolores, but he was also glad that Dolores wasn’t here, such was the web he had found himself tangled in.

“Me?” The Handler sounded theatrically surprised, as though there were someone else in the room. “I already told you, I enjoy watching you squirm, Five.”

“‘Squirm’, ‘Relax’. I can’t do both, so which is it?” Five took a deep breath, dropping his eyes to her hand which was still circling his stomach. Her fingers were half flexed, like talons, and her long nails were catching on the tiny buttons of his pyjama shirt. 

“Hm, you got me.” She paused her hand, patting his tummy as though in praise. “Perhaps I just enjoy this little game, maybe I like pushing _all_ your buttons.” She punctuated this sentence, by quite literally popping one of the clasps open. It revealed a small strip of his pale skin, and Five looked away, as her fingers slunk under his clothing like a snake. Her touch was warm, but Five still felt goosebumps rise on his skin as she kneaded and rubbed at his flesh. He still had a tiny amount of puppy fat left on his frame, and she pinched it between her thumb and forefinger, before resuming her slow circles. “A girl can get quite lonely, after all.”

Just then, there was a knock at the office door, and Five half expected her to extract her hand, to cover him back over. Before, she had seemed intent on keeping their game private, between the two of them, but when she brightly called for the newcomer to enter, Five stifled a sound of protest. A short man, dressed like a butler and carrying a covered tray, stepped into the room and over to where they sat. He regarded the Handler, giving her a wide, confident smile.

“Your treats, and the coffee, my lady.” He placed the tray down on her desk, in front of Five, and lifted the lid of the silver dish. Inside were an assortment of freshly baked cookies, shaped and iced to perfection to resemble briefcases, guns, gas masks and clocks. They smelled delicious, reminding him of Grace’s baking, but the images that they evoked brought another wave of nausea to Five’s stomach. It looked as though it was going to take a while to get through these, and with coffee to wash it down, Five would have to try his best to appear happy with his current predicament. 

“Thanks Ritchie, I’ll call you if there’s anything else.” The Handler waved her hand dismissively, and Ritchie took a bow, before backing away from the room with that wide smile still on his face. He said nothing to Five, he didn’t even look at him, and Five wondered what the rest of the staff at The Commission thought of their Handler’s behaviour towards him, if they were aware of how sick she was. Once he was gone, the Handler set down her own coffee, and she took hold of Five by the hips, arranging him so that he was turned a fraction more sideways on her lap. He was caught off guard by the manhandling, so he gripped the nearest source of stability to him, which was her own upper arm. That made her shake with silent laughter, and as she pulled the tray closer, he decided to eat, if only to give himself something else to focus on. 

Of course, as soon as he tried to take a cookie, his hand was neatly swatted away, and his face was turned by the chin to look at her. “Ah-ah.” She chastised him, and Five wanted to punch the smirk off of her face. “What do you say?”

“Can I have a cookie?” Five deadpanned, growing tired of her histrionics. In response, his chin was gripped a little more tightly.

“With _manners_ , Five.”

“ _Please_ may I have a cookie?” Five forced a smile onto his face, hoping it looked less like a grimace, and more like a genuine display of endearment. In truth, he wanted to beat her to death with the metal tray, but he could save that for later when she was less watchful of his every move. Whatever the Handler must have been searching for in his face, she seemed to have found, as she released his chin, and petted his hair instead. 

“Good boy. Here, allow me.” With one arm still slung around his middle, lazily rubbing at his stomach, the Handler reached forward and picked up a briefcase-shaped cookie. She held it neatly in her manicured nails, and brought it down towards his lips at a gradual pace. He opened his mouth, and let her slide the treat inside, balancing it carefully on his tongue, before biting it in half. It tasted good, and the hint of vanilla was unmistakable in its symbolism. Still, he couldn’t detect any hints of drugs or poison, so he chewed slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the second half and not on her face. When he was ready, she pressed the rest of the cookie onto his tongue, and this time, some of the icing smeared on the corner of his lips. It was deliberate, the small increase in her smile told him so, but he didn’t protest or cringe away. 

He did, however, straighten his spine, when she leaned in and kissed him.

 _Of course,_ Five thought to himself, recalling how she tried many times to kiss him the last time he was here. Only, instead of fighting her, or climbing off of her lap, he merely sat ramrod straight, unresponsive, and allowed her tongue to slip over his lips. She collected the stray icing, and pressed another peck to the corner of his mouth, before sitting back in her chair with a coy grin. 

“Well? What do you say?” She squeezed him, gently, and Five sighed, feeling his patience wearing ever thinner at her expectant tone.

“Thank you, Handler.” His voice came out steadier than he expected, which was a relief, as she smoothed her free hand over his cheek, before leaning in to retrieve his coffee. _Now this_ , he thought, _I don’t have to pretend to enjoy._ She raised the mug, and Five tilted his head, trying to be at the right angle so that the drinking wasn’t awkward on his neck. The last thing he wanted was to spill coffee on his pyjama bottoms, and give her a reason to take them off of him. She let him enjoy a mouthful of the bitter, dark drink, then another, and the taste distracted him from the fact that she was slowly undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Once she brought the mug away, however, he was aware of the open halves of his shirt, and how they were almost sliding off of his shoulders. The Handler resumed her rubbing, now more clearly able to see his stomach, and she brought another cookie, a gun this time, up to his mouth.

“You’re being very good for me, Five.” She praised him, once he had let her feed him 4 of the sweet cookies. They weren’t even halfway through the plate, and most of his coffee was still there, but she took a pause, both of her hands now resting on his abdomen. Five tensed, his muscles contracting under her touch, but she didn’t remove them, shifting her attention from rubbing his tummy, to his entire torso instead. She slid her palms up to his chest, over his nipples, and down either side of his ribcage, back to his stomach. All the while, her red-painted lips pressed soft kisses to his bare neck, making him hold his breath in caution. If she wanted, she could tear his throat out with her teeth, and Five would be dead in minutes. Instead, she kneaded her mouth into his flesh, and sucked marks onto the curve of his throat. He felt sick, and his instincts screamed to push her hands off of him, to fight back, but with the people he loved once again on the executioner’s block, he had no choice. 

Around, and around, her hands caressed him, until she teased him by thumbing over his nipples on the next upward stroke. Five hissed in surprise, and he squirmed lightly on her lap, arching his back into her chest. He opened his mouth, only to have her deliver a firmer squeeze to them both, and silence his coming protests. A molten wave of pleasure rolled down his spine, and as she suckled on his earlobe, Five watched her fingers toy with his nipples, drawing them into tight, rosy pink buds. It stung, but not in a raw, chafing way. No, she kept his nerves on edge, deliberately oscillating between smooth strokes, and too much pressure for her movements to be completely pleasurable.

“Do you like that, Five? Something tells me you do.” The Handler rested her chin on his shoulder, and Five suppressed another noise of protest when she flicked one of them. By now, his nipples were permanently hard, and behind him, he could feel her pulse was beating a little faster. She was enjoying every second of this, and Five was in no position to stop her. Instead of replying, he turned his face away, and she took advantage of the offered curve of his throat, pressing more kisses to the soft, vulnerable skin. 

Once his throat was sufficiently marked, and his nipples were swollen and red, she raised her head again, lifting up another cookie to feed him. He took the offered treat gingerly, then the next, and when he gulped down another mouthful of coffee, he felt the Handler’s free hand resume on his belly. This time, however, her fingers skirted lower, nudging the waistband of his pyjama bottoms on every pass. The touch was so close to his groin, that it made his chest squeeze, and Five felt his empty hands starting to shake from tension. During his second gulp of coffee, her hand slid down, onto his inner thigh, and Five almost choked at the boldness of the touch. He turned his head away from the mug to watch more closely, and his pulse pounded in his ears, as her fingers travelled higher on his thigh. Bit by bit, it inched closer to its goal, and he bit his lip around a moan when she covered his entire clothed cock with her hand. She squeezed him, fondling slowly at his warm flesh, and with the coffee now back on the tray, she was free to scoop under one of his thighs, and spread his legs wider for her viewing gratification. 

“Stop…” He gasped out, as she continued to tease him into hardness. A damp spot was forming on the crotch of his trousers, and she seemed to focus in on that point relentlessly, her nails dragging over it tauntingly. Now satisfied that his legs were splayed open, either side of her own, the Handler resumed playing with his nipples alternately, kissing the corner of his mouth and grinning to herself. 

“It doesn’t feel like you want me to stop.” She was back with that soft, patronising tone, and Five bit his tongue to stop himself cursing when she slipped her hand fully into his pyjamas. She could wrap her entire hand around his length easily, and when she squeezed him again, he instinctively arched into the touch. He moaned out loud, and she laughed huskily against his ear, rubbing her thumb lazily over the slick head of his erection. He bucked his hips, moaning again, and she rewarded him with more firm pressure, nipping his earlobe and licking the soft patch of skin just behind it. Five was feeling light headed, strung out, and helpless on her lap. She was all around him, and her hands were unceasingly persistent on his sensitive flesh. His orgasm rushed up, completely catching him off guard, clouding his senses in a white, blinding explosion behind his eyelids.

He took a while to recover from the intensity of his climax. As he came back down, his chest heaving and his blood roaring in his ears, he could hear the Handler talking. Straining to listen, and still shaking from the aftershocks, Five opened his weary eyes to see an agent standing across the other side of the Handler’s desk. Her hand was still wrapped around him, and his stomach was painted with streaks of white release, but she seemed nonchalant in debriefing the agent. Five tensed as best as his tired muscles would allow, feeling utterly humiliated at being caught in such a compromising position. The man glanced down at him once or twice, but his expression gave nothing away as to whether he was disgusted, or interested. 

As she continued talking, a sudden, chilling thought passed over him. Five’s mind conjured up the names of other agents, the ones that he knew, that would remember him. He was still considered legendary at The Commission, and before now, this little game of theirs was kept private. Now that the Handler clearly didn’t see any issue displaying her fixation to the rest of the organisation, Five wondered how quickly this confidential information would spread. Unless the Handler made them all swear into secrecy, every agent that he and his family ran into in the future could know about this, and he wasn’t sure he could take the embarrassment of his siblings knowing too. 

They conversation carried on for a minute longer, and as she spoke, the Handler ran her fingers through the cooling release on his stomach. She brought the digits to his mouth, and with a grimace, Five obediently licked away his own fluids, his cheeks burning from mortification. She repeated the action, over and over, until he was completely clean, and she planted a kiss onto his cheek, dismissing the agent now that the conversation was finished.

“You’ve been very good for me today, Five.” The Handler squeezed her arms around him, gently, and Five braced himself for the ‘But’. It never came, however, and she kissed the top of his head, before turning him fully sideways in her lap. With his head now resting on her shoulder, his legs dangling over her arm rest, Five was left to catch his breath, and let the exhaustion of the last hour wash over him. All of this had been one, giant power play, and Five’s skin still crawled at the concept that he had once again been violated by this domineering woman. However, she wasn’t as violent as the first time, didn’t demand that he reach orgasm over, and over, and over. No, she had done the exact opposite, and been attentive, thorough, and even _gentle_ with him at times. Five had been completely unable to predict her movements, and so everything had felt as present, raw and real as the first time. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Go to hell.” Five murmured tiredly against her skin, and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that if he laid still enough, that she would finish her game and send him home. Instead of punishing him for answering back, the Handler laughed, and swept a hand possessively down his cheek, over his side, and around the curve of one of his hips, thumbing into the hollow rhythmically. The movement made his eyelids heavy, and as he listened to the Handler’s slow, steady breathing, he began to drift.

When he next opened his eyes he was back in his room, like before. He was clean, and dressed in a new pair of pyjamas, and felt much less sore than that first time. Dolores was once again perched on his bedside table, and Five dropped his gaze away from her, pushing himself into a seated position. As he thought of what to say to her, he noticed the tray from the Handler’s office on his desk, which held the plate of half-finished cookies, and a pneumatic tube. Five stood, quickly, and he hastened to scoop it up, briskly unscrewing the lid. Inside was another note, typed out with care, and signed with a lipstick kiss.

_“Today was fun, Five. You certainly seemed to enjoy yourself. I’ll be back to play again, soon, but you know how to contact me if you want to meet before then. PS. Enjoy the cookies, I hope they remind you of me.”_

Five sat down on his bed, and he put his head in his hands. It seemed the Handler wasn’t ever going to be done with him. _Next time_ . He told himself. _Next time, I will stop her for good._


End file.
